


the collective shut of eyes

by corduroywords



Series: voltron bingo [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Chem's A Bitch, Domestic, Embarrassment, Fluff, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Late Night Conversations, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Prompt Fill, Roommates, Studying, Voltron Bingo 2018, author tried to edit this but she got attached to every single word, but not rlly, his eyes are UP HERE shiro !!, keith just wants good grades can you blame him, oh my god they were roommates, or at least trying to, v soft wow, whoever said "kill your darlings" is mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 18:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16645634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corduroywords/pseuds/corduroywords
Summary: A boy in flannel is Shiro's downfall. Pro tip: don't be roommates with someone you're desperately, head-over-heels in love with.The pajama bottoms in question are a particular source of Shiro’s internal suffering; loose and fitting just right, the fabric thin and a fading red with frequent wash.It takes a man to admit that he’s jealous of a pair of pants, if only that they get to be pressed against Keith.





	the collective shut of eyes

**Author's Note:**

> title from butterflies by samsa, which is the cutest shit i've ever heard

_1:47_. A click of a pen, the squeak of a broken swivel chair, the quiet clickety-clacking of keys. 

Soundless eyes and a thumping heart, all their attention on a boy with ink-black hair and flannel pajama bottoms.

This isn’t the first time he’s watched Keith; he’s sure it won’t be the last. Shiro is in love, he’s sure. 

You know the worst part? It’s not from afar. This isn’t your average pining boy, this is a man who’s already given his heart up for something he’s not sure the direction is where he wants it to go. 

Oh, and he’s his roommate. 

Keith looks up, eyes blinking a few times before settling on Shiro and crinkling with a tired smile. He feels the weight of it all the way down. “Chem’s a motherfucker, huh?” Keith says in a hoarse voice, and oh right, they’re studying. 

“Yeah,” he replies, voice cracking like a twelve-year-old’s because he’s smooth like that.

“Wanna compare notes? You took the course last year, right?” Keith asks, and Shiro’s head jerks up, down, and then he’s moving over to Keith’s mattress, plopping down awkwardly beside him and trying not to jostle the papers spread over his comforter. The bed creaks under his weight and he imagines what it would be like if he could come home to Keith like this.

Reaching across their shared nightstand to get his laptop- because of course, they’re an arm's length away from each other each night- he signs in quickly and fumbles the password twice before opening up his drive and settling it above Keith’s closed one on his stomach. “Here,” he says.

Keith pats Shiro’s knee absently as a thank-you, eyes already trained on the document in front of him. He hasn’t talked much this night, except to point out when the clock turned to 11:11. “Make a wish,” he’d murmured without looking up from his screen, and Shiro made the one he has every time- on dandelions, birthday candles, shooting stars, fallen eyelashes- _Please make Keith (the one I’m in love with, yeah_ that _one_ ) be more obvious.

Because there are times when he hopes:

A hand, reaching for his as he pulls him into the pool.

Waking up to tangled legs from an accidental sleep. 

A whispered name in sleep, so faint he thinks he’s imagining it every time he thinks back to it.

Keith’s hand touches his gently in the present, trying to get his attention. Shiro shifts so that they’re shoulder-to-shoulder (never say he wasn’t an opportunist) and leans in as Keith mumbles questions about his note formatting and such. Keith is sleepy and soft in the middle of the night, and sometimes Shiro wants to cry when he thinks about how he’s the only one getting to see this Keith.

Shiro answers the best he can, trying to jog past memories and _what was he thinking when he put that on the page_?

Keith laughs softly, a noise from the back of his throat that Shiro tries to preserve. “You don’t remember shit, huh?”

Shiro smiles sheepishly. “No.”

“I guess you’ll just have to re-learn it with me,” Keith says with a cheeky grin, turning towards Shiro, and it’s only then that Shiro realizes how close they are to each other. A breath apart, the distance so small that he can feel every warm puff of air Keith slowly exhales, can count every eyelash, can trace every smooth patch of milky skin and kiss both corners of Keith’s upturned mouth with his eyes. 

He forces himself to look away. 

Instead, his gaze settles onto Keith’s legs, where they taper down to feet gently bumping Shiro’s ankle every few seconds as they move side-to-side. His fingers are tracing a looping pattern on his own flannel-clad thigh, and Shiro watches, ever-so-aware of the silence that’s fallen. The mini air heater hums. 

The pajama bottoms in question are a particular source of Shiro’s internal suffering, loose and fitting just right, the fabric thin and a fading red with frequent wash. 

It takes a man to admit that he’s jealous of a pair of pants, if only that they get to be pressed against Keith.

Suddenly, Keith makes a sound that might be a whimper from above Shiro, and Shiro’s head shoots up. Keith looks horrified, and Shiro’s cheeks are already flaming. 

There’s a moment where they look at each other, suspended in mutual mortification so thick and palpable that Shiro can feel time stop in second-hand embarrassment. _This is it,_ Shiro thinks numbly. _This is my life._

Then, Keith, always the action one, always the one to back down last, challenge first attempts a valiant effort at a shaky smile and murmurs, with that hoarse voice: “So you just gonna sit there or are you going to move?” 

And then Shiro’s shifting without realizing it, closing his eyes before he’s even started leaning forward. He doesn’t miss, though; turns out his constant study of Keith, Keith, _Keith_ , came in handy. 

He feels soft lips on his, a soft exhale, Keith shifting the laptop off his lap. But just as soon as it happens, Keith is pulling away, glancing at the alarm clock. Shiro winces. 

“Don’t worry,” Keith says hastily as soon as he sees. “I just..” he grins sheepishly. “I really need to study.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed and feel as soft as i do about these dorks! this was super short, but kudos and comments are appreciated as always <333 
> 
> tumblr: [beefy-keefy](https://beefy-keefy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
